Back to Earth
by etraytin
Summary: Donna's trip to Indiana with the campaign ended up being a lot longer than she planned. The day after isn't looking to be much shorter.


Author's Note: Another Tumblr prompt fic, this one for Anonymous, who asked "Can you write a fic about Josh thanking Donna after "20 hours in America"?"

I'm still accepting prompts, by the way, though I will say now I've still got a pile of Josh x Donna prompts besides all the ones I've already done, and if you've got something that adds some variety, it might float to the top faster. ;-)

...

Donna had learned early on in the Bartlet campaign that there came a point where a short night of sleep was actually worse than no sleep at all. For her, that usually hit at about the three hour mark, where she'd slept just enough that her body had started to process the fact that it was exhausted, but before it had done anything to fix the situation. By the time she'd finished following Josh and Toby on their walking tour of Washington DC, reached the White House, been told to be back at noon, and caught an early Metro home, she'd had time for a two and a half hour nap, a quick shower with enough conditioner to repair the disaster that was her hair, and two very large cups of coffee before getting dressed and catching the Metro right back to work again. She fell asleep on the train, which she never liked because that was when the creepers tended to sit down next to her, but at least she managed to shake herself awake in time to jump out at McPherson Square. The half-mile walk to the White House seemed longer than ever before, but she used the time productively, buying herself another coffee and giving herself a pep talk. By the time she got to work, she was pretty sure she looked human again.

It was a long, long day at work, even considering it didn't start till noon. Josh and Toby had come to some freaky mind-melded conclusion during the trip that their next big project was going to be making college cheaper, while simultaneously Josh considered the possibility of the administration dropping support for Title IX. This meant a day full of little speeches about the righteousness of their new cause as they revved themselves up for the difficult battles that would have to be fought, interspersed with half a dozen moments of thoughtless sexism by Josh as he complained about how women didn't really like or understand sports the way men did. Donna briefly considered reminding him that she'd been an All-Madison softball player in high school and routinely did better than him in the football pools (even when she didn't deliberately sabotage him), but she'd sat him down for a reality check the night before and he could only take so much at once. Besides, even the idea of it just made her feel strident and more tired.

She tried begging off from the Rock the Vote event in Cambridge, but CJ wanted all the senior assistants except Margaret there to help infiltrate the crowd with pro-Bartlet ideas from people who looked like they went to college this decade. The plane ride at least gave her a chance to catch another hour of sleep, and the event was jeans and t-shirts instead of business or, god forbid, formal wear. Donna was never particularly comfortable socializing with college students, subconsciously worrying that they would realize she was a dropout with no degree, she guessed, but now that she was thirty it really was time to get the hell over it. The bands were fun, and even though she knew she was probably too tired, she enjoyed a couple of beers on the campaign's dime while listening to music and occasionally remarking that President Bartlet sure was a good president, yes indeed, and truly the only logical choice for the educated youth of today. Or something like that.

While she was nursing her second beer at the bar and debating trying to sneak out of the event in search of a more comfortable chair, Josh came over with his own drink in hand. Despite everything, she was happy to see him. He looked as relaxed as he ever got during campaign season, and he always looked pretty good with his tie off and his collar open. That was another weird thing about sexism, she decided, somewhat blearily. Why were the women from the campaign all wearing snug Rock the Vote t-shirts, and all the men were still wearing their office clothes without suitcoats? Did they think they were too important to participate, or were they just nervous about wearing jeans and t-shirts? Having seen Josh in jeans and a t-shirt, she knew he had nothing to worry about.

He sat down next to her at the bar, but it turned out he just wanted to talk about Title IX some more, this time in a louder setting. He was definitely not noticing her t-shirt and jeans at all. She gamely went another round with him, as was her duty, reeling off a list of statistics that was frankly extremely impressive considering that she was both exhausted and slightly drunk. He didn't notice that either, was not, in fact, paying any attention to her at all. His eyes slid past her like she was a commercial in the middle of Hardball, and he abruptly excused himself and left. It only took her a second to see what he'd seen: Amy Gardner, live and in the flesh, rather more flesh than Donna was showing thanks to a strategically engineered t-shirt. He zeroed in on her like they were magnetized, and Donna turned away to lay her head on her arms on the bar. Now seemed like a really good time for this endless day to be over. She was so tired of so many things.

Luckily for Donna, Carol and Ginger came across her before CJ did, woke her up and dragged her off to the booth they'd secured for the "chronologically challenged," as they'd put it. She fell asleep there, too, but at least she was out of sight and her friends would cover for her. Every single one of them had experience with the twenty-four or thirty-six hour day, and nobody even made fun when they left after midnight and Carol had to keep her arm laced through Donna's to keep her from falling over. From the corner of her eye, she could see Josh looking at her, but she was in neither the mood nor the condition to deal with him right now, so she kept her gaze averted and prayed that he'd make it onto the plane all by himself.

Her favorite place on Air Force One was a two-seater bench tucked in behind the stairs, just next to the small kitchen. On late night flights like this, nobody used the kitchen and not many people were moving around, so it was isolated, quiet and dimmer than most of the cabins. Donna secured herself a blanket and pillow and zeroed in on her chosen bench, only to be dismayed to find it already occupied. Josh looked almost as tired as she did, but for once the impulse to bully him into taking care of himself was absent. She just wanted to sleep.

He seemed to be studying her as she approached. "Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself," she responded automatically, sitting down next to him. Sitting was much less good than laying down, but considerably better than standing. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a free bench," he defended himself, then squirmed a little when she just stared at him instead of replying. "I know this is where you go to sleep on the plane."

"That's harder when you're sitting right there," she pointed out, her tone a little more peevish than she'd intended. Not that she didn't feel it, but they were still technically sort of at work, after a fashion.

"Yeah, I know," he admitted, rubbing a hand through his already wildly disordered hair. "I know you're tired, I'm not gonna stay. I just... it occurred to me that I didn't really thank you for everything you did while we were wandering around the countryside yesterday... or day before yesterday now, I guess. I was kind of preoccupied, and Toby was kind of nuts, and we pretty much left you holding the ball on getting us back home." His hand migrated down to rub the back of his neck. "And there may have been certain points during the trip when I was less than gracious about your efforts. If you'd stayed with the motorcade instead of coming out after us, Toby and I would probably still be wandering around some cornfield and yelling at birds."

A tiny hint of a smile crossed Donna's face, it was really all she had the energy for. "So are you going to?" she asked.

"Going to what?" He looked mystified.

"Say thank you," she prodded.

He smirked. "We'll make a politician out of you yet." When she snorted and laid her head back against the seat, he moved to stand up. "Take the day off tomorrow," he instructed. "It's Saturday anyway. Get that bath you wanted and maybe some actual sleep. You can come in on Sunday afternoon and we'll plan the week."

Donna's eyes snapped open. "Are you serious?" she asked, too incredulous to hope. "But there's so much to do, everything from yesterday-"

"Seriously, Donna," he insisted with a grin, leaning against the wall opposite her bench. "You look like hell, and that's supposed to be my shtick. I'll grab somebody from the temp pool if I need to, and I can muddle through for one weekend day. We've got some big fights coming up and I can't have you half-dead at your desk."

It was possible that Donna should have been insulted by something in there, but she was more than willing to ignore it for the possibility of ten hours uninterrupted sleep. "Well okay then," she said, a slow smile making its way over her face. "If you insist."

"I do, and my word is law," he boasted, heading toward the hatch to the staff cabin. "Get some rest." She planned to do just that, and was already arranging her pillow when he paused at the door and turned back. "Oh, and thanks."

It had still been a lousy day, but Donna was smiling when she closed her eyes.


End file.
